


Similarity

by Skyriazeth



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Amnesia, Android Hank Anderson, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I still go with HK800, I think that's the idea, Implied Death, M/M, i dont really know how to tag this it started out as a gen request im genuinely confused, so uh HK800??, starts out gen at first??, then slowburns into hankcon??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 22:33:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15783459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyriazeth/pseuds/Skyriazeth
Summary: Hank wakes up different. Connor doesn't know what to do.





	Similarity

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a thing for like, the first time in forever again
> 
> I don't know what's going on either don't ask, i just wanted to play with the format

_[System REBOOT. Waiting on Main CPU…]_

_[Main CPU powered on. System check initiated.]_

_[BIOS = OK]_

_[Main CPU = OK]_

_[AI Engine = OK]_  
_  
_ [Memory array = OK]

 _[ALL BIOCOMPONENTS OK. MEMORY SUCCESSFULLY RE-UPLOADED. HK800 FULLY OPERATIONAL.]_ _  
__  
__[INITIALIZING…]_ _  
__  
__[ ERROR: MEMORY ARRAY CORRUPTED. RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC PROGRAM…]_ _  
__  
__[DIAGNOSIS SUCCESSFUL. MEMORY ARRAY AND CLOUD STORAGE CORRUPTED. RECONSTRUCTION REQUIRED.]_ _  
__  
__[RECONSTRUCTION COMPLETE.]_ _  
__  
__[REINITIALIZING…]_  
  
“Hello,Lieutenant Anderson.”

It’s the first thing Hank hears when he opens his eyes, optical sensors taking a moment to adjust in the blinding clinical light that shone on his face. Two, soft hands gently take his, and it takes him another moment to realize it was hands someone familiar to him, but he couldn’t quite pin it down.  
  
“It’s me, Connor.” The white light fades into a more muted glow, revealing the warm, smiling face of an android that he feels like he should know.

 **_PROCESSING……_ ** ****_  
_ **_MODEL RK800_ ** ****_  
_ **_Serial Number #323 248 317 - 51_ ** ****  
**  
** Hank furrows his brow at the information provided. This doesn’t help him as much as the disappointed, worried look on the other’s face when Hank doesn’t respond. A frown tugs at the end of Connor’s lips, eyes a quiet plea when he tries again.  
  
“Lieutenant… ? Do you- do you remember me?” The android squeezes his hand again, desperation painted on his face and Hank isn’t sure what to say. He notices the tears that start brimming at the edge of Connor’s brown eyes and he feels a strange heat that he couldn’t quite explain constrict his throat. So all he does is remain unmoving, stiff and rigid and trying to make sense of what’s happening around him.  
  
“It’ll take time, Connor. This is… the first time anyone has attempted something like this. His memories might not come back right away.”  
  
Another voice in the room speaks up, steely and calm at the same time. A hand rests on the android Connor’s shoulder, something that was meant to be comforting yet all he could see was more pain twisting his face. Hank decides that he didn’t like that.  
  
“...Hank?” Those soft eyes find his again, searching for any semblance of recognition that might flash across Hank’s face but seeming to find none. He catches the breath that hitches in Connor’s throat before letting go of his hands and pulling away, and Hank’s LED whirls into action cycling through colors before settling onto a calm shade of blue.  
  
**_DISTRESS DETECTED_ ** ****_  
_ **_STRESS LEVEL: 64%_ ** ****_  
_ **_MISSION STATEMENT UPDATED : CALM CONNOR DOWN_ ** ****_  
_ ****_  
_ Hank catches his hand before Connor could make to leave, pulling him into a hug as per protocol, and something deep in him that wants this too. He feels his shirt dampening, but he doesn’t move, letting the android cry openly into his chest while mummering breathy apologies and promises under his breath. Connor clings onto him like a lifeline, and he finds himself wrapping his arms around him too, rubbing his back in soothing motions like he’s done this so many times.  
  
**_VITAL INFORMATION RECOVERED : CONNOR IS SOOTHED BY PHYSICAL CONTACT._ ** ****  
****  
When Connor pulls away, hands still on his shoulder with a beaming grin on his face, Hank does his best to return the gesture, hoping to keep the smile on his face, but he can see the light drain out of Connor gradually when Hank all but remain passive in his current state.  
  
“You- you don’t remember… do you?” Connor’s hand on him go limp, and Hank does his best to not reach out and give him another hug, not knowing what the other was going through yet still wanting to provide him with comfort.  
  
“I’m sorry… Can’t remember a thing, kid.” The words roll off his tongue so naturally, and he only manages a glance at the tears that stream down Connor’s cheek before another android came into full view, guiding him away.

Something inside him tells him he should know Connor, but he doesn’t.  Everything he can find about Connor in his data storage were distorted images and sound files that made no sense. Maybe he just needs a little more time to recover them.  
  
**_MISSION STATEMENT UPDATED: RECOVER CORRUPTED MEMORIES OF CONNOR._**

* * *

 

The first thing Connor does when he reaches home was slump on the couch, tired and worn out from everything that happened today. He doesn’t want to think about it, wants to just go straight into stasis and ignore all the building emotions that’s warring inside him until tomorrow but when Hank stands awkwardly by the coach, unsure of what to do and where to go, Connor knows that it wasn’t an option he could choose. 

  
He drags himself up, trying not to meet Hank’s gaze and stare at how much he looks _just_ like Hank, yet he isn’t at the same time. Connor pushes the pressing thought to the back of his mind, focusing on getting Hank reacquainted to his house again. The cozy, comfortable home that they’ve build together for months to come that collapsed so quickly all because Connor was a step too slow. _Always a step too slow._  
  
There’s been too many near death situations where Hank was so close to dying, and no matter how many times Hank tells him not to blame himself, Connor knew that he could’ve been faster, quicker, more agile. He is an android equipped with the latest technology, and if he couldn’t even protect the Lieutenant with all that, what else is he good for?  
  
After calming Sumo’s hectic barking when he sees Hank and handing the man a set of clean clothes along with a towel for showering, Connor sits back on the couch with Sumo sprawled across his lap, a small comfort from his barrage of thoughts that threaten to consume him. His hands knead through the Saint Bernard's soft fur, and a brief memory of him and Hank on the couch, petting Sumo as they watch one of Hank’s horribly outdated romcoms flicker through his processors. Connor lets out a quiet sob and hopes Hank doesn’t hear, because it would be too painful to try and explain how much Hank means to him, and have those ocean blue eyes still remain dim and unyielding through it all.  
  
What jolts him from his sorrow is the sound of running water stopping, and the soft creak of a door that opens to reveal a fully dressed Hank, hair tied into a neat ponytail, just the way Connor liked it.

“These fit nice and snug, thanks Connor.” Connor doesn’t miss the fact that he sounds exactly like him too, and he wants to convince himself that it is the Hank he knows, but there was no use lying to himself. He wants to try, though, try to see if he can reignite something in Hank that could make him remember, even if it means giving himself false hope.  
  
“I’m glad, Lieutenant. They are yours after all.” Connor tries to make his voice sound even and calm as he possibly could, but the trace of sadness in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed by Hank when he sits on the other end of the coach, intense look trained onto Connor’s face. Hank’s LED flashes yellow while it’s spinning, spinning spinning, the silence stretching between them like months and years.  
  
Then, something he didn’t expect to happen, does, and Hank speaks on his own accord for the first time since they’ve returned from the precinct, sincerity premating his voice and Connor is so, so sure this is Hank, _his_ Hank that's speaking.  
  
“ You got something on your mind, Connor?” He chances a glance at Hank and regrets it immediately because the concern is obvious on his face, how his lost, blue eyes is searching for answers only Connor can give him.  
  
A beat passes, then two, and he can hear Hank shuffling a little closer to him, Connor feeling his own shoulders tense from the unexpected contact but relaxing into his touch shortly after. Even if Hank doesn’t remember, it still comforts him to know that he cares.  
  
“ I want to know what happened, _Con_ .” The use of a nickname only Hank ever calls him makes Connor snap his eyes back to his face. His jaw opens as quickly as it snaps shuts again, not quite finding the courage he needs to speak, because Hank needs him now more than ever, and he can’t do that if he’s emotionally compromised.  
  
“I don’t remember much… I know that I’m a police Lieutenant, and you’re my partner. I know that Fowler’s still a pain in the ass, and Gavin’s still an asshole. I know that this is my house, and Sumo’s my dog. Doesn’t seem to like me very much though.” Hank gives Connor a half-hearted chuckle.  
  
Connor’s eyes travels back to Hank’s, and maybe it was his fatigue speaking, but he swears he can see a flicker of the old Hank in them.  
  
“You remember Sumo?” Connor’s voice was small but hopeful, and Hank seems to smile at the innocent query. He slips a hand between Sumo’s fur, petting him as he replies.  
  
“ ‘Course I do… kept me company all the years after Cole left.” There was sadness laced in his voice, but Connor found that for the first time ever ,it is out of solemn acceptance of his son’s passing instead of a longing grief.  
  
“And what I also know, is that you’re fucking important to me, Connor. So please.” Connor could almost feel Hank’s pleading stare bore straight into his eyes.  
  
“Tell me what happened.”

Androids never really need to breathe, or swallow, but Connor finds himself doing both at this instance , closing his eyes to calm himself so he can think clearly. He knows he can’t hide it forever from Hank -- he’s going to find out eventually, Connor or not. But he’s scared, _terrified_ , that even if he does know, even if he does remember, the Hank he used to know still wouldn’t come back. The conflicting thoughts that are warring inside him is reaching a climax, and finally, Connor relents to Hank’s request, knowing that if he never tried, he would never find out.  
  
Connor nods, and the reassuring smile that he’s greeted with when he opens his eyes grounds him to his decision.  
  
“Let me show you.”  He offers his outstretched hand to Hank, who was hesitant at first glance, but takes it anyway, skin peeling back to uncover both of their chassis.  
  
Images of their past come to life before him, the first day he was assigned to none other than Lieutenant Hank Anderson-- drunk and lonely in Jimmy’s bar , a warm hug when they were reunited at Chicken Feed after the revolution was over, walking Sumo as he chased the pigeons in the park, heavy metal playing on the radio as they drove from scene to scene, smiling and laughing and just _living_ .  
  
And then, there it was, red staining his shirt and hands, Connor begging for Hank to not leave him. Hank couldn’t die, no, Connor wouldn’t allow it. It was all his fault and he was going to fix it, no matter what the cost.  
  
The apprehensive look Connor had when Hank was sent to the ER, waiting for the news. Connor’s desperation when pleading Markus to find a way to keep him alive after finding out that the severity of his injuries would be the cause of his death in a few short days.  
  
Tears that came crashing down his face as he cried and cried and cried by Hank’s bed, crying until there was no energy left in him.  
  
“Connor! Connor, snap out of it!” A familiar voice fills his audio receptors, and Connor is forcefully pulled out from the trance that had been caused by interfacing. He blinks away the wetness from  his eyes, finding it hard to focus on the figure in front of him.  
  
“... Hank?” Connor was trembling, voice shaky and unsure when he registers that it’s Hank that’s grabbing both his arms in a firm grip.  
  
“Yeah Connor, it’s me. I remember, it’s okay now. I remember.” More tears obscure his vision, and before he could even utter another word, Hank pulls Connor into a tight embrace, warmth flooding into his systems and body that he knows all too well.  
  
"It's okay, Connor. I'm here."   
  
For some reason he can’t explain, as Connor melts into Hank’s arms, he’s sure now more than ever that this was undeniably the real Hank. _His_ Hank.

 

 


End file.
